Headboards and Other S#@t I Like to B$%ch About

I slept in a twin bed until I was about 28. I know, it makes me sad, too. There was a time in there where perhaps I had my parents' hand-me-down full or something, but from the time I was a young teenager I had a twin bed that I loved. (Don't try to picture me at this size sleeping in a twin bed. You will hurt yourself laughing.)


So when I got together with my ex-husband at the end of 1997, it was obviously time to upgrade. I mean, the twin was cozy for a few months, but then it was just silly (even though I was MUCH thinner back then). I remember we bought a queen bed and a metal frame from this place on San Pablo Avenue near 23rd in San Pablo. It was a good deal. I remember at the time thinking wow, we really need a headboard and stuff, but let's just wait until we can afford to get matching stuff. You know, the whole deal. Dressers, nightstands, etc.


Then not long after the kid was born at the end of 2005 (stuff seems to happen to me in December, doesn't it? Her birthday is 12/27, my ex-dateaversary is 12/26), we got a really good tax refund and decided to upgrade to a California King. I think this was when we figured out we were "those" parents whose kid was going to sleep in the bed with them, pretty much until the end of time. Once again we were like, wow, just a spent a good chunk of change on this mattress and box spring... but at some point, we really need to get like, a headboard and all that jazz and matching dressers and stuff.


Fast forward 5-ish years later. I got custody of the bed. And I still have no freaking headboard. I have dressers that are falling apart and are of the variety a college kid would probably have in their dorm room. Apparently this is not much of an issue for me. What is an issue is the lack of headboard. I don't even care that much that my bed is practically on the floor. (Floor, box spring, mattress, us.) But the not having a headboard thing is driving me nuts. The kid has bonked her head on the wall a couple of times, and today I just about knocked myself out when I hit the back of my head on the window sill (who else is deathly paranoid about head injuries and thinks that any time they hit their head that this could be curtains and thinks of poor Natasha Richardson and all of that? Is it just me???). So enough's enough, I gotta do something about this. And this concludes my b$%ch about headboards.


I dislike that I'm a hoarder and that I never seem to throw anything away. I just seem to move piles of paper from one part of the house to the other.


I am not a fan of the fact that I'm lazy. For example, I've been too lazy for years to do anything about the hoarding/piles of paper issue.


It bugs me no matter how much I get inspired or try to inspire, that I still have so much trouble putting down the fork and that no matter how much I know it is not the answer, something gooey and cheesy or guacamole-y always seems to be the right answer when things aren't going well. At the time, it so very much seems to be the right answer. And then, afterward, not so much.


It sorta sucks that when it comes to men, I tend to gravitate like a big fat magnet to those who are not good for me or don't want me. It doesn't help that at my size, I've become something of a "specialty" (see previous b$%ch). On the one hand, it's not really a big deal. I'm not looking to get married, pretty much ever. On the other hand, it frustrates me that it even frustrates me when a HUGE part of me very much doesn't care. Decipher that s#@t if you dare.


It blows that at the age of 41 I still have not managed to figure out budgeting. You know, and spending only what you can afford, that sort of thing. That's pretty fucking sad. Sorry, that deserves that actual bad word.


I'm perturbed by people who don't get it. I can't put it any better than that. I figured that I should put in at least one b$%ch that wasn't about me.


You're probably thinking, man, Jen, if I were you, with all this stuff to kvetch about and the head injury, why are you not standing on top of your one-story house, thinking about doing a face-plant on to the concrete in your backyard? Well, the answers to that one are simple.


I have the best roommate/kid in the entire world. Who randomly accosts me with kisses and tells me I'm gorgeous and that she loves me so much and that I'm the best mommy.


That right there is enough. And then on top of it I not only have a job, but one that I love. Add to that the best friends that money can buy (kidding, about the money, not that they are the best), and the best family. Like, I actually enjoy family gatherings because my family is awesome.


So what was I saying? I'm thinking I might have a concussion... Oh, that's right. I need a headboard.

Conversations With Kayla

I love talking to my kid. She is endlessly entertaining. I am fascinated by the conversations in which I find myself with her. Here is one we seem to have frequently. As a matter of fact, we pretty much had this conversation three minutes ago:

Kayla: Mommy, where's my (blah blah blah, I can't hear her because I'm on the treadmill, which is loud, and the TV is on, which is also loud, in spite of the fact I have the captions on).
Me: Honey, can you talk louder, please, I can't hear you.
Kayla: Where's my (blah blah blah, she has the cutest little voice which is very soft usually, especially when I'm really trying to hear her and the treadmill is loud).
Me: (Turning off the treadmill) Okay, what are you looking for?
Kayla: Where's my table?
Me: What table?
Kayla: The table for the Littlest Pet Shop toys?
Me: (pause, looking at her and thinking how cute she is and wondering how many times a day do we have conversations like this) Honey, I have no idea what you're talking about.
Kayla: Where is it?
Me: Honey, I don't know what it is. How would I know where it was?
Kayla: It's a REAL thing.
Me: I believe you, I just don't know what it is. (Pause) I need to go write this down before I forget.

So I hopped off the treadmill and came to write this down. This morning she wanted to know where her red scissors were. Who uses her red scissors? Just her. She's the only one who uses them, unless she hands them to me and asks me to cut something out. Right now she's into cutting out paper animals or people, and then cutting out food for them (like the blueberries she cut out of blue foam yesterday). But some things she wants help with... for example, circles are hard, according to Kayla. This is true.

So the point of all of this? There is no point. I'm just entertained by my kid and I'm not making fun of her. Because just this morning I called my mother to ask her where my calendar is. That's right, my calendar. That I use for writing down my stuff. But I had no idea where it was, and I figured she'd seen it when she'd been here taking care of Kayla. And sure enough, she had.


Me: (on the phone) Mom, have you seen my calendar?
Mom: Yes.
Me: Okay... do you know where it is?
Mom: Yes.
Me: Are you going to tell me?
Mom: You're the one who told me where it was the other day.
Me: And where was that?
Mom: Where are you?
Me: In the office.
Mom: Oh, you're really cold.

I'm not kidding. We had this conversation this morning. I also do that to my ex-husband, call him up and say, "Hey, while you were here, did you see such and such laying around?"

But really, this is such a mom thing, I guess. I don't mind Kayla coming to me to ask me where something is, even though I might not know what it is or have any clue regarding its whereabouts. It's just like, Mommy will know. And if she doesn't know, she'll help me find it (or go write about it). And I like that.

She just asked me, "Mommy, where's the white kitty?" I said, "I don't know... " "Oh, there it is!" It's so great when she finds stuff all by herself. And if she asks me first before she goes looking, that's okay with me.





Happy Mother's Day, to all of you mommies who constantly help your kids find their stuff.